


Broken

by pookiestheone



Series: Early Days [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:55:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pookiestheone/pseuds/pookiestheone
Summary: Third part of "Early Days"  This series probably should have been a chaptered work, but I didn't expect it to go beyond the first story.





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Third part of "Early Days" This series probably should have been a chaptered work, but I didn't expect it to go beyond the first story.

"So," Steve asked as he set his knife and fork on the empty plate, "you're mom teach you this?"

"No. Picked it up. It's just eggs and stuff. No big deal."

"OK."

Billy fiddled with his plate, staring at it as he turned it in circles on the table.

"When my mom was sick, a few months before she died she never ate." He quickly looked up then down again. "At least it seemed like she never ate, but one day after school when I was sitting with her she suddenly said she would like an omelette. I mean, what the fuck did I know about omelettes, but she had all these cookbooks. So …" his voice trailed off.

He looked up again, smiling as if remembering.

"Let's just say the first one wasn't much of a success; I managed to mess up eggs. But she ate it. So I made her one any time she wanted and that was almost every day. Nothing else. Just a three egg omelette."

He sniffed and rubbed quickly at his nose.

"I learned other stuff from those cookbooks, but the omelette was all that really mattered. Besides Neil didn't like me cooking. 'Men barbeque.'  
Told me to get my Aunt who came in to make us dinner each night to do it."

"No fucking way," he muttered as he slumped back into his chair and was quiet for a few seconds.

"Anyway, never made another one after she died."

He cleared his throat and stood, reaching for Steve's plate.

"Want to wash these?"

"Dishwasher," Steve nodded toward the counter. As he watched Billy walk away it sank in how important his making breakfast had been. _Just eggs._ Billy had chosen him. They had gone from being at each other's throats to an uneasy truce to … this. Whatever this was. Friends? In a day? The funny thing was that he actually felt like that's what happened and that somehow, after everything, it was supposed to. But it seemed like there was more to it than that; that there had to be more to it. None of it made any sense, at least not yet, but oddly it didn't worry him.

"Hey, Steve, are you listening?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Does the pan go in the dishwasher?"

"Uh, yes? No? Fucked if I know. Put water in it and let it sit. I think that’s what my mom does."

"OK, water it is. " He looked up at the clock as he dried his hands on his shorts. "I gotta go. Max needs a ride at noon."

"Let me guess. Not the arcade, not today. Probably Byers'."

"Don't know. I'm just her driver."

Things suddenly seemed awkward as Steve followed him to the front door.

"You want to come back later? I mean it's still going to be hot and you can have a swim." He paused. "If you want," he added weakly. _I sound like a goddam idiot._

"Yeah, maybe."

He nodded to Steve as he drove off. About five minutes later, on an open stretch of road, he pulled over and just sat staring at the strip of shoulder gravel in front of him. _What the hell! This isn't going to end good; it never does when I like somebody. I fuck it up. He fucks it up. It just gets fucked. I'm not going back._ He threw the car in gear, scattering gravel behind him as he pulled out without looking. The driver of a passing car laid on the horn and waved an angry finger at him.

"Yeah, I know. I'm an asshole. Eat shit, ya Hoosier hick."

He followed the car, occasionally tailgating just to see the driver's reaction, until it pulled off onto a side street. _All finger, no action._ When he pulled up in front of his house he was still smiling about where his mind had gone after he said that. Max was waiting on the front step when he climbed out.

"Neil's not happy," she said as she walked toward him. "He was watching the damn clock, talking about you being late."

"I'm not though."

"I know, let's go."

At that, Neil stepped out onto the screened porch.

"About time you got here."

"I'm not late, sir."

"Cutting it close," he grumbled, sounding disappointed that he wasn't.

"I know, sir, but I'm not late," Billy repeated.

Neil grunted at him and turned around as Billy got back into the car. Max settled in beside him. He sat for a few seconds, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Finally he relaxed.

"Where to?" he asked.

"The Byers'."

"He was right," Billy laughed as he backed out of the driveway.

"Who? About what?"

"Steve. About you."

"So that's where you were. Thought so."

"Why? Miss me?"

"Only with a bat."

She realised what she had said as soon as it was out.

"Oh, shit! I…"

"Good one, Maxine, good one."

That wasn't the reaction she had expected and she couldn't decide if it was better.

"You and Steve got on OK?" she asked uncertainly, testing his strange mood.

"Sure."

"Thought you might if you gave him a chance."

"Yes, Max, you're a little matchmaker."

"I'm a what?"

"Nothing. _Shit!I_ Why are you going to the Byers'?" he asked quickly, hoping to skip over his comment.

"We're all going to be there. Chief Hopper is barbequing, too."

"You mean the cop?"

"Yes."

"So are he and Mrs. Byers, uh, doing it?"

"Jesus, Billy! How would I know?"

"You and your little group of misfits seem to know a lot."

"How about this. When we get there I'll go tell the Chief you have a question for him." She shook her head. "And you think my friends are strange."

"Just joking, Max." He paused just long enough. "But if you were to snoop around ..."

"Shut up!"

Despite the trend of the conversation Max decided she much preferred this Billy.

"So what are you up to today," she asked as they pulled up in front of the house.

"Don't know. Nothing I guess. Go home, get clean shorts, drive around. Steve asked me back later," he added. 

"You going?"

"No."

"Because you have better things to do like drive around?"

"Just get out, Max."

"Maybe if you did," she started."

"Close the damn…"

"Billy? It's Billy right?"

He looked over to see Jim Hopper, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, standing on the porch waving barbeque tongs at him. He was wearing an apron with the caricature of some guy in a chef's hat plastered on the front.

"Yes, sir."

"You want some ribs? Be ready in about half an hour."

Dustin appeared beside him, pulling aggressively at his elbow as he whispered something.

"Not your call, kid. Now go tell the other little buggers the same. Billy?"

"No thanks."

"You're missing out. Best in the county, hell, Indiana, if I do say so myself."

"Another time, maybe. What was that, Max?" he asked as Hopper went back inside.

"That's the Chief."

"Yeah, yeah, funny. So he doesn't know what happened?"

"Sure he does."

"Then what the hell?"

"Why ask me? Maybe you should find out for yourself."

He sat until she had disappeared through the front door. _This town is fucking weird_

When he got home Neil eyed him suspiciously from his usual chair in the living room.

"Where were you last night?" he asked as he carefully folded his newspaper.

"I stayed at a friend's." _What's going on? He doesn't usually give a shit as long as I do what he says._

"Who?"

"Steve Harrington."

"Harrington? That the rich guy's kid."

"They're not rich."

"What?"

Billy had forgotten that he should never contradict him, no matter how stupid he sounded or how wrong he was.

"Yes, sir."

"You know how to pick 'em."

"I…I what?"

"First my boss's kid, now this one."

"It's not like that."

"Sure. Once a fag, always a fag. Just don't fuck this place up for us too because if we have to leave, you're not coming with us." He opened his paper again, signalling they were finished.

Billy didn't remember getting to his room, but he was standing staring into his mirror, his clean cutoffs clutched in his hand. He felt like he was broken again. It wasn't anger or sadness or any other emotion; it was just numbness. Dropping his old shorts in a puddle around his feet he kicked them to one corner and stood examining himself, looking for, and not finding, some outward sign of what was wrong.

Last time, when his mother had died, he had run, but hadn't got far. He stepped into his clean shorts and grabbed a T-shirt. This time he had a car.

Fifteen minutes later he wasn't on the highway well out of Hawkins, completely unprepared, on his way west, headed home; he was standing at Steve's door, banging as loud as he could.


End file.
